Original The Tempest
by Shattered Relampago
Summary: This is an original story. This is a story of betrayal, loss, and revenge. This is currently a one shot. What happens when a King disobeys the Gods, unknowingly leaving behind one survivor. Confrontation. If you like it, I may expand upon it.


Provocation of the Tempest

~Part 1~

"An eye for an eye, as the ancient saying goes. This is what I am here for."

The Old King looked around, eyes darting from one tentacle of air to another. He had experienced this magical attack before; however, he had never been able to see the strands of air controlled by magic before. It had always been colorless. This time there was color within the wind. It was part of the wind and it originated from the person in front of him. Cold sweat rolled down his back as he focused in on the source of the magic.

The wind blurred his vision too much to make out anything. The voice of the stranger, however, allowed him to determine the stranger was a male. He was young as well; he could tell that much. The wind wrapped itself around the stranger's body, concealing and protecting it. Where the wind touched his body, every color could be seen. Black. Red. Yellow. White. Gray. Green. These colors and many more poured out of his body into the wind he controlled. Strands of air, blacker than a moonless night, bolted forward and wrapped around the Old King's throat.

Hatred. Pain. Loneliness. Fear. Anger. Revenge. Emotions of the ugliest and hottest nature flooded the Old Kings psyche as he was lifted off the ground by the strands. His toes barely scratched the ground as he was slowly choked. His own pain, though, failed to register. The black tentacle, which now had traces of blood red, conveyed these feelings into the Old Kings psyche over and over again. He tried to pry the wind away from his throat to ask, Who are you? I know you not; I have never done you harm. Why do you attack me?

For an instant, all of the colors in the wind vanished except for two. The blackest black of night and the blood red of a dying sun flared along all the strands of wind. In this moment, pure feelings of hatred and supreme rage convulsed through the Old Kings psyche. A burning hatred drove a desire to kill himself into his heart.

All the colors that had vanished started to slowly fade back into the wind. The young man who had controlled the wind answered the Old King, "You say you have done no harm to me. Tell me then, Harrod, what happened to Alimdor? What happened to your allies thirteen years ago? Where are their wise sages, the ones who gave you their services for free?"

"Alimdor was a land of scum and betrayers. They abandoned my kingdom in its time of need. They were going to allow my kingdom to suffer a famine. By doing this, they declared war on me and my kingdom."

Again, black and red became the primary colors in the wind. The same hate driven rage to kill himself in an act of pure vengeance flowed through Harrods psyche. Harrod had never before felt the urge to kill himself. These foreign feelings, he reasoned in his mind, must be from the stranger.

"My name is Gemini. I am heir to the broken crown and fallen thrown. I am heir to the forgotten city. I am the prince of Alimdor. I am, as you put it, one of the betrayers, whom abandoned you to face a famine of Mother Nature's making. However, we are not the scum and betrayers you name us. We merely stopped playing gods. It was not our place to control the weather with our wind. We had no right to bless Alimdor and your kingdom with beautiful weather, while damning other nations to famines. Mother Nature chose famine for you, not us. The famine would have hit Alimdor as well.

However, you refused to accept my father's decision to let Mother Nature run her course. You chose to stab us in the back. You used the Power Stone of the Phoenix, a gift from the gods. You are the betrayer. You attacked us on a holy day. Everyone was dancing, singing, and celebrating. No one expected an apocalypse to descend from the sky.

It is for this reason I was spared from the fiery demise of my people. It is for this reason I was chosen by the gods to be your destroyer. An eye for an eye. A life for a life. One kingdom for another kingdom. You destroyed my people, and now, using the power imbued into my soul by your god, I will destroy your people. This is the burning hate that drives my soul; it is the divine order I have been given by the gods. But…"

~Part 2~

Twilight sat over the capital city with a refreshing wind drifting by lazily. Stars dimly illuminated the sky, outlining the clouds. The majestic moon, which outshined all of the stars, blazed its light down on the city and bathed it in pure white light. Occasionally, it was blackened by the brewing clouds. On this night as the wind lazily swept through the city, Hora sat on her favorite bench in the palace garden.

From her seat, she had a clear view of the sleeping city below. The wind gently caressed her face and flowed like a whisper past her ear then through her hair. Light foot steps behind her caused her to turn away from her favorite view. To her left stood a man garbed in a silver tunic and black pants with an aqua sash between the two. On his neck he had a silver chain, which was holding a deep blue gem. The blue of the gem matched his eyes, which was framed by short, black hair. She noticed his hair moved slightly as the wind whispered through it.

"Palace has a beautiful view, doesn't it, Princess Hora?"

"OH! I'm dreadfully sorry; I was staring at you, wasn't I? It was very rude of me to do so, Sir; however, I can't seem to place your face or your style of attire."

"Let me introduce myself then. I am Eos, a fighter in your father's tournament tomorrow. I was given leave to spend tonight as I please."

Princess Hora turned back to the view of the city. She had known many a fighter before. They used to enthrall her when she was little with their display of swordsmanship. By now, she had figured out they were reckless thrill seekers and killers. She continued her gaze over the city, which was her favorite past time. Eos, another fighter working his way to his death, had simply unconvinced her with his presence. The wind this evening had her enthralled. She soon had forgotten all about the interruption.

However, Eos had noticed the sparkle of interest fade away in the princess's emerald eyes at the word fighter. Hora's distaste of fighters was clear. She was a pacifist at heart, despised bloodshed. He looked up at the clouds drifting in on the horizon. He hadn't expected to meet anyone of this nature here in the palace.

"Princess, you might want to retire to the palace for the night. There are clouds moving in very fast, and it looks like rain. You wouldn't want to catch a chill."

"You haven't been here long, have you, Eos? No rain will fall tonight. This time of year it never rains. Another half a year will pass before we will get to see rain again. Even wind at this time of the year is very queer."

Her tone was clear and precise, matter of fact. But, the wind started to slowly pick up its speed. Her long black hair started to lightly float behind her, framing her slender, pale body against the darkness of the night. Her sleeveless, long white gown fluttered as the wind swept briskly along. The clouds had now covered the entire sky as well. The brilliant moon was hidden from eye sight behind layer upon layer of storm clouds driven by the increasing wind. Eos walked to the ledge of the garden and stood on it. He spread his arms to the side and lifted his face towards the heavens.

"Eos, what are you doing?" Hora stood up and started to walk toward him when the first drop of moisture touched her skin. She looked to the sky as another drop of rain fell on her face and rolled down it. Her hand was immediately fixed to the spot where the water had fallen. She stood in shock as a clap of thunder and flash of lightning broke the dead silence of the slumbering city. It rained. The wind had brought rain to the city.

Eos continued standing on the ledge and indulged his senses to the quiet, unfelt might of the wind along with the life sustaining power in the rain. Heavy sheets of rain fell from the angry tempest onto the dry, thirsty ground. Princess Hora, instead of heading to the palace, stood there in shock and combed her wet hair with her fingers.

With the wind and rain, the temperature dropped significantly. Eos had already had his fill of sensations, and he understood the Princess would catch a severe chill if she stayed out much longer. He hopped down from the ledge and placed his hands on her shoulders.

He looked deep into her emerald eyes, "Hora, you must go inside where it's warm. You're shivering already from this cold!"

"Eos! It's raining! It hasn't rained this time of year in so long. Oh! I must go tell my brother. It's raining! You were right, Eos! Rain!"

She excitedly started to run off before she turned back. She reached up to Eos and kissed him passionately, then she turned and ran back into the palace. Eos just stayed there, shocked. He definitely hadn't expected to meet anyone friendly or compassionate here.

~Part 3~

Darkness. Torches on the walls of the chamber hardly illuminated the circular room. Their flames fluttered in the wind coming from the open window. The chamber had a rich red carpet on the floor, protecting feet from the cold nights. It had the appearance of richly decorated room, except details were hidden by the lack of light. In the middle of the room, he paced. In a circle he continued to travel over and over again. His sleep eluded him. His comfort eluded him. The chairs had lost their appeal, as had his bed.

Wind. Thunder. Lightning. The wind's breeze started his nightmares. The thunder's clap awakened him from his sleep. The lightning's flash illuminated his sleeping fears and demons. His clean cut, white hair and wrinkled skin weakened his image in the eyes of other men. It was deceptive though. For his weakness existed not in his physical form. His weakness existed in his psyche and torn conscious. However, it was hidden very well. When people looked into his eyes, they did not see an old man torn with old fears. His regal, brown eyes terrified people. Through his eyes, they experienced the magical prowess he possessed. His magical powers exceeded all that had come before him. He was King Harrod. King only in name now, he had passed his crown down to his eldest son.

However, he still held power, more than just political. His fire and ice magics combined were unstoppable. It was the strongest still in all the lands. Only his grandson, who was heir to the fire crown, showed promising signs of becoming as powerful as him. This wasn't what bothered him this night though. The uncanny rain and storm was a small part of it, but what forced him to pace had been occurring all day. The thunder, lightning, and rain were just fresh reminders.

Wind. The wind caused his pacing, his fear. The fair breeze had started out of nowhere. It had been unpredicted by the mages. It was unnatural as far as they had determined. There was no one left alive who controlled the wind and through it the weather. Somehow, someone controlled this wind. But, no one had survived the inferno. No one could have survived the inferno.

The old king, haunted by his conscious, muttered to himself as he paced, "No one… could they have… NO! But… no one else…"

Part 4

"…But." At this point, Gemini cried. "I have been charged by your own god to use my power against your land. But. The spirits of me people cry out from beyond the grave for vengeance. But. My own soul screams with rage and hatred. But. I remember watching the inferno descend from the sky and obliterate my people and my home. But. My mother, seer of the ages, foresaw the disaster, and she had to live through it twice. The curse of the seer is the gift of sight and an oath of silence. But. My blood screams for perfect vengeance. But... I cannot kill all of your people.

I am not like you. I have no right to determine the fate of anyone besides my own and those that have violated me. Not even the gods should be allowed to play with our fates. You attacked Alimdor. You coerced in your temple against the gods to use the Power Stone of the Phoenix. You used that godly power to decimate us.

You attacked us. You killed my people, and you destroyed my home. You took power greater than demigods upon yourself. By doing so, you took responsibility for that power. You attacked and killed my people; you are responsible. You should be the one to die and suffer, no one else! You, not your kingdom, is guilty and responsible. Your sentence is the pain you have caused, more sufferable than anyone can imagine. Your suffering will not last long, unfortunately. Your psyche will not hold long enough to endure it all, and your physical body will perish.

In the name of the honorable Alimdor and on behalf of the gods, I shall carry out this sentence. I, Eos Gemini, the controller of winds and vessel of the past, shall decimate you."

Eos Gemini swirled his hands in front of his body, which collected strands of wind into a sphere. Black and red swirled in the sphere, which caused a small cyclone to form. The darkest black and the brightest red. Once again, these two colors shined with a raw anger. Hate. Pain. Rage. Vengeance. Death. All these potent feelings were wrapped into these colors. These potent feelings were a record of his people's raw emotions during the last brief moments of their lives. Harrod looked at Eos Gemini with seething, evil rage. The tournament audience was shocked senseless. Ever since the horrible decimation of Alimdor, everyone had suspected a foul and evil dead. But. King Harrod?

A stream of a moonless night's black and a dying sun's blood red bolted from Eos Gemini's hands into Harrod. Harrods eyes bolted wide as his body violently convulsed. In an instant he was exposed to all of the pain he had inflicted, the anger he had caused, the hate he had brewed, and the vengeance he had implanted in all those souls. Buried deep behind all these potent feelings, there existed a darker being. All the feelings were the result of this one, dark being. Harrod had never felt this before; it was the sinister spirit of death itself! It flowed through his psyche, toyed and stabbed at his heart, his life. Through the contact of the evil spirit, Harrod felt the wish of a people to have his blood spilled. He understood and felt the driving urge to end his own life.

Hatred. Pain. Rage. Vengeance. Death.

"Storm of the Millennia!"


End file.
